Furious Angels

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! belongs to Kazuki Takahashi. The "Furious Angels" CD and all lyrics contained within belong to Rob Dougan.

It's spring finals -- this must mean rayemars is keeping herself from end-of-the-year-burnout by writing bishie porn.

The first chapter of this was written before the manga ended, so it doesn't match. I'm too lazy to rewrite it, I'm calling it AU and leaving it at that.
~~~~~~~~~~~~


"So speed me towards death
'Cause I want her to taste me
You knowsenssenses are dead
I want her to awaken me"

The afternoon sun did nothing to warm the cool autumn weather. It had already fallen behind the tallest skyscrapers when the motorcycle puttered into the alley, the sound echoing along the close-set walls until Malik stopped behind a dumpster and cut the engine.

"Here?" Bakura asked once the noise died out.

Malik shoved the kickstand out and waited for Bakura to climb off before settling the bike against the wall. "Yeah." He removed his helmet and hung it over one of the handlebars, and Bakura did the same.

Bakura looked up, then tilted his head. "Wow. I haven't seen a building with an outside fire escape in a long time."

"That's why we're here," Malik said, grabbing the lid of the dumpster and pushing himself up. He stood carefully on the slanted surface and turned around. "Climb up -- I need you to undo the latch."

Bakura glanced down the alley. "What if we get caught?"

"No one around here cares." Malik kept staring down at him, so Bakura swung himself onto the lid as well. He glanced over at the fire escape, judging the distance.

"Wouldn't it be easier to shove this closer?" he asked.

"I tried already," Malik replied. "It's too heavy, even with your help. We have to jump. Or break into the building, but I figured you'd like the less illegal option." Malik knelt and folded his hands into a step, and after some hesitation Bakura put a foot on it. He braced the other on the garbage lid, then tensed and jumped toward the bottom landing.

He caught it, barely, and hurriedly dug his fingers into the holes of the metal for purchase. Bakura hung in the air for a moment, until Malik stood again and stretched across the gap to give him a shove upwards. Bakura scrabbled forward and wrapped his fingers farther along the grate, trying not to smash his face into the bars as he did. Then he pulled himself up enough to get a knee on the landing.

The grate bit through his jeans, but Bakura leaned more weight on it before letting one of his hands go and quickly grabbing the bar of the railing. He straightened and braced his foot between another set of bars before slinging a leg over the rail.

Bakura hit the landing with an ungraceful thump. He muttered "Ow" as he rubbed his knee and hip, then pushed himself up and moved to the ladder.

Malik was smirking. "Nice show."

"This was your idea," Bakura muttered as he pushed the ladder up with one hand and flipped the latch holding it in place out of the way. He started letting it down slowly.

Malik jumped back off the dumpster. He caught the ladder when it reached his height, tugging it hard enough that it slid out of Bakura's grip and landed with a loud clang onto the concrete. Bakura automatically glanced in both directions to make sure no one had heard, but Malik just started climbing.

When he reached the landing, Bakura caught his arm and helped him over the rail. Malik landed on his feet, then turned and pulled the ladder back up, rehooking it.

The teenagers made their way up the fire escape and climbed the short ladder to the roof, only to find that there was nothing but a ledge before a fence blocked off the area. Bakura gave the fence a slightly grateful look, but when Malik pushed on his leg, he climbed the rest of the way up and moved over to give the blond room. He gripped the chain-links tightly, trying not to look down.

Malik eyed the lock on the fence gate and looked up. Then he slid his hands into the loops of the fence and wedged the toe of one boot in another loop. "It's not that high, and there's no barbed wire -- we'll go over."

Bakura started to protest, but Malik was already climbing. Bakura watched him for a moment, then glanced down at the ground and the ladder back to the fire escape. Then he looked up at Malik, who had reached the top and was trying to get a leg over the bar. Bakura's shoulders dropped as he sighed. Then he forced the toe of his sneaker into a link and started climbing.

Once he'd slung himself over to the other side, he hung there, and tried to get a foothold, and decided he was sick of hanging off things for the day. Then he felt Malik's hands around his waist. Bakura reached down and caught one of the loops, before sliding a little lower and -- hoping his jacket wouldn't catch -- letting himself drop.

Malik stumbled backward but caught him, and the blond waited until he was sure Bakura was firmly on the ground before letting go. Bakura rubbed his palms, expecting an explanation, but when Malik said nothing he wandered over to another section of the fence. A group of stoned teenagers had ripped a large holere, re, leaving nothing but the short ledge to prevent a five-story plummet. Bakura stopped near the gap and glanced around.

"Not much of a view," he said, hooking a hand in the curled-up portion of the fence.

Malik rubbed a thumb over one of his sore palms, vaguely wondering why Bakura had bothered to do the same. He'd noticed a new bruise near the middle of the other teenager's arm just that morning, when he'd wandered in for breakfast.

It was small, of course. Bakura only made small bruises and scratches, usually on his arms, and he always wore them openly so everyone would mistake them as the little consequences of clumsiness. Even Malik had assumed that, until on one of his visits months ago he spotted Bakura idly biting his arm while flipping through the cookbook. The other teenager had noticed him staring, but he hadn't bothered to stop until he found the page he was looking for and had begun to go through the fridge for the ingredients. Malik started keeping track of the marks since then, and he'd realized how long this had to have been going on for Bakura to be so perfect at covering it up.

It made him wonder if Bakura really had been born slightly clumsy and it worked out as a good front, or if he'd just made himself act awkward until it became second nature.

A moment later Malik shook his head before walking over to Bakura. He placed a hand on the other teen's back and looked across the rooftops with him for a silent minute.

"I could push you off," he said quietly.

Bakura's hand tightened around the fence, but his face didn't change. "Stop it, Malik. I don't like it when you try to scare me."

Malik snorted and moved away, leaning against the fence on the other side of the hole. "'Scare you'? You'd have to actually feel something before I could do that."

Bakura sighed. "Don't start this again, please. Why did you want to come here anyway?"

Malik didn't fall for the subject change and kept quiet, still leaning against the fence. He folded his arms over his head a moment later and hooked his fingers in the loops, watching Bakura as the other teen stared at the worn-down buildings around them and the downtown skyscrapers in the distance.

"Because I felt like it," he finally replied. "Why, Ryô? Do you suddenly need a purpose for something?"

Bakura closed his eyes. "Why won't you just stop, Malik?"

"Because I hate the way you live," he snapped. "It's pointless. You just drift, and you don't give a damn about anything. You don't live for anything."

"Oh yes, and the Ring spirit had a purpose for living," Bakura replied smartly. "And he was very admirable, wasn't he?"

"Don't twist my words."

"Then stop saying them. I'm sick of this conversation."

The two of them stood in sullen silence for several minutes, until Ba ada added, "And you're wrong."

"About what?" Malik muttered without looking at him.

"I do live for something."

Malik snorted in disbelief. "What's that?"

"I borrowed the first book of Uzumaki from Honda-kun," Bakura replied. "And I need to return it. And then I want to get the other two him."

Malik stared at him. ". . . Are you joking?"

"No."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

There was a pause. Bakura stared at the airport. Malik glared at him.

Then Bakura's lips twisted up slightly. "What would you have done afterward, if you had succeeded in killing Yuugi-kun?" he asked.

Malik started. "What?"

"Think about it," Bakura said. "Your driving purpose for the past five years would be gone. What would you do then, go back to Egypt and just sit? Find a job and a new home and . . . what? What would you do?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Malik demanded.

Bakura shook his head. "You're one of the people who should already understand this, Malik."

"Understand what?!"

"That it's stupid to live for big things," Bakura replied, turning to look at him. "When they're over, they just leave you empty and drained. Your family guarded the Items for three thousand years, and now it's done. You have nothing to live for anymore. You should see that." Bakura turned and stared out over the buildings again, in the vague direction of Domino Airport. "Yuugi-kun's going to learn it soon, too."

Malik let go of the fence and slid his hands into his pockets. ". . . Do you feel it?" he asked a minute later. "The Item, calling you?"

Bakura nodded once.

"Me too," Malik said quietly, staring at the concrete of the roof. "That's why I had to come up here. I couldn't be in Egypt while Yuugi was doing it. Isis said I was even sleepwalking."

"I know," Bakura said. "Sometimes, if I'm not paying attention, I'll realize that I've been walking south-west. And if it gets too quiet, I'll hear his voice screaming at me to go take the Ring back before it's too late."

There was a long silence, and Malik ground the heel of his boot on the concrete. Bakura leaned against the chain-link, making it rattle faintly. "I hope. . . ."

Malik looked over.

"I know that putting all the Items in the tablet will kill the Ring spirit," Bakura said, "him and the other Yuugi-kun, but. . . . I hope it hurts him, too." Bakura briefly placed a hand on his left arm. "I want it to hurt him a lot."

Malik watched him speak, but Bakura's face never changed from its calm, slightly absent look.

Malik shoved away from the fence and strode towards him. Bakura glanced over, and made a startled noise as Malik grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the gap. "Wha--"

Bakura was cut off as Malik shoved him against the fence and leaned in to kiss him roughly. The paler teen made another noise in his throat, but once he got his bearings he relaxed and opened his mouth. Bakura ran his tongue over Malik's lip and wrapped his arms around the blond's waist.

Malik slid his hands up Bakura's chest and underneath the jacket, stopping when his palms were resting on his shoulders. He pulled back then, panting slightly as he stared at the other teenager. Then he shoved downward. Bakura made an "Umph" sound as he sat abruptly on the concrete of the roof.

Malik knelt down and kissed him again, partially straddling Bakura's legs. He ran his hands back down the other teen's chest before hooking them in the waist of his jeans.

Bakura shifted uncomfortably and twisted his head to the side. "Malik . . . what if somebody sees us?"

Malik moved his hands away, wrapping them around the paler teen's waist. He leaned forward slightly and pressed his tongue to the sensitive spot behind Bakura's ear. "No one around here cares. . . ."

Bakura shivered once. He twisted his fingers around the fabric of Malik's long-sleeved shirt, pulling the other teenager closer and kissing him again.

Malik stayed like that for another minute, keeping his grip on Bakura's sides to warm up his palms. Then he shifted his weight back to his knees and returned to the jeans. He undid the button, but then paused. Bakura only mumbled something against his mouth and tightened the grip on his shirt, so Malik smirked and pulled down the zipper.

When he tugged the denim away from Bakura's waist, the other teenager opened his eyes aga "W "Wait . . . we can't. The ground . . . it's . . . cold. How am I. . . ."

Malik snickered. "Kneel, then."

Bakura gave him an 'are you serious?' look. Malik simply pushed his t-shirt up and ran his tongue over Bakura's chest. The other teenager shivered at that, before shifting so that he was sitting on the heels of his sneakers. He muttered something under his breath about not having exhibitionistic tendencies like certain other people, but Malik ignored it and pulled the jeans and boxers down to Bakura's mid-thighs.

The paler teen started shivering in the cool air, and Malik rubbed his hands along the exposed skin of his legs, trying to warm him up slightly. Then he leaned down and ran his tongue over the tip of Bakura's partial erection.

Bakura shivered more violently when the cool air hit the saliva, making his erection falter slightly. "Don't tease."

The Egyptian smirked at that, but licked the tip again and began working his mouth over the flesh.

Bakura sighed and let his head fall back against the fence. A moment later, his palms twitched as Malik ran his tongue further down. He knew that if he slid his hands into the blond's hair Malik would only shove them away, so Bakura reached back and wrapped them in the links of the fence instead.

Malik pulled back most of the way, wrapping his hand around the middle of the erection so that the air wouldn't hit his saliva again. He kept the tip inside his mouth, though, and pressed his tongue against the slit.

Bakura made a sound between a grunt and a whine at that, arching his back and pushing further inside. Malik smiled and pressed a little harder. When he glanced over and noticed Bakura's hands tightened painfully around the links, though, Malik frowned and stopped. He swirled his tongue over the tip again, and used his free hand to push Bakura's legs as far apart as the jeans would allow. Then he settled into a more comfortable position before sliding his hand back and beginning to work the now full-fledged erection into his mouth once more.

Malik didn't have much of a gag reflex, so deep-throating Bakura wasn't hard, but it still took him a little time to make it all the way to the base. When he did, he glanced up as much as he could, trying to see Bakura's face.

The paler teenager had his eyes shut. He was breathing heavily, though the sound was sometimes interrupted by a hitch or a soft noise in the back of his throat. Malik could barely hear them, but he knew what they sounded like anyway, so it didn't matter.

The Egyptian took a deep breath through his nose, and then hummed loudly. His forehead bumped into Bakura's stomach as the other teen arched forward, and Malik smiled again. He let the humming trail off as he moved one hand down to cup Bakura's sac, and slid the other up the paler teen's chest and underneath his shirt until he found a nipple.

The fence rattled as Bakura pushed his head back against it. His breath came out in gasps, which were rapidly turning ragged as Malik swallowed around him and the blond's fingers brushed teasingly gentle over his nipple. Bakura arched, trying to push Malik's fingers harder against his chest; and when the darker teen scraped a thumbnail down the side of his sac, he hissed and shivered violently. He clenched the chain-links tighter. "Malik. . . ."

The arm that had been toying with the paler teen's chest was beginning to ache, so Malik let it drop and rest on Bakura's upper thigh, feeling the muscles trembling beneath his skin. The blond was still swallowing rhythmically, and a moment later he let go of Bakura's sac and slipped his hand further back. When he reached the smooth bit of skin behind them, he brushed a thumb across it gently for a second before pressing up.

Bakura's wordless shout and strangled "Malik!" made his smile widen as much as was possible. He rubbed his thumb roughly against the spot as he continued swallowing around the paler teen's erection, listening as the moans Bakura was making grew more guttural with each second.

It wasn't long before Bakura cried out again, bending forward and only managing to keep from falling over because of the death grip he had on the chain link. He stayed like that for a moment, his panting harsh and his eyes still shut.

Malik swallowed some of the salty liquid before pushing himself back on his heels. He spit out the rest and wiped his mouth off with the base of his thumb, licking away the traces of semen as he stared at the other teenager.

Bakura stayed slumped against the fence. In the whole time, he'd never opened his eyes.

Malik watched him for a moment, the irritated expression beginning to return to his face. Finally, he leaned over and pulled Bakura's jeans back up. The other teenager lifted his hips slightly, but he was still too gone to be any help.

While Malik was tugging up the zipper, he leaned forward and whispered the same words as he always did. Bakura didn't reply.

Once the darker teen finished with the button, he stood and stepped away. He leaned against the hole in the fence, gripping the metal as he stared out towards the airport.

After a few more moments, Bakura blinked lazily and let his head roll to the side so that he could look at Malik. He reached out and ran a hand along the darker teen's leg questioningly.

"Later," Malik said, still staring out at the rooftops.

Bakura watched him for a little while, before closing his eyes and leaning back against the fence.

Soon he sighed and shrugged out of his jacket, deciding that he was too warm for it now. He turned his head and gazed up at Malik again. "Your problem is that you want life to mean something," he said quietly. "But I guess that only makes sense."

"And why's that?" Malik asked, his tone disinterested.

"Because everything in your life has had a purpose," Bakura answered. "Whether it was yours or the Pharaoh's doesn't really matter. You lived for something big. But that's over now."

Malik finally looked at him.

"Moeopleople don't ever get touched by the kind of things that we've been through, Malik. They only read and dream about it. That's what entertainment's for -- to give them a vicarious thrill. The worst that happens is they put the book down and feel a little depressed that their life isn't as cool as the hero's. Or the villain's." Bakura shrugged. "But then they go back to thinking about their math exam or their work project or . . . or borrowed manga. Something little, it doesn't matter what."

Malik snorted. "So what? Let them. If their lives are that small, why the hell should I care? I still don't see what your point is."

Bakura tilted his head, watching him. "Normal people live for little things. You need to stop trying to find a purpose, Malik, and start living that way too. Or you're going to be angry and unhappy forever."

Malik stared at him for a long second, before turning away from the expression in Bakura's eyes. He let go of the fence and strode over to center of the roof. "I don't want your pity."

Bakura stood up and looked down at his jeans as he brushed them off. "It's not pity, Malik. Pity is something you feel for people you don't care about. It's . . . empathy, I guess." He walked over to the blond, stopping when he was a foot away. "I liked my life before I got the Ring, but now that I'm trying to go back to it, something is gone. It's duller; nothing seems as important in comparison. He took that away, too."

Malik jerked around to glare at him. "Can't you at least sound angry when you say that?! You monotone doll!"

Bakura just slid his hands into his pockets and watched him calmly. toldtold you, everything is dull now."

Malik clenched his fists and turned his back on the other teen. Bakura shook his head and walked back to the hole in the fence.

The two of them stood there in silence, until Bakura finally rubbed his bare arms and looked up at the darkened sky.

"It's going to be night soon," he said, picking up his jacket. "It'll be harder to get down in the dark."

Malik stayed still for another minute, but finally began walking towards the ladder. "Let's go."

That night, Bakura woke up when his mind registered something wet on his back. He groaned tiredly and rolled a shoulder, hoping that there wasn't a leak in the apartment above him.

Malik, who was lying with his head between Bakura's shoulder blades, made a half-asleep noise and shifted slightly.

Bakura stayed still for a while longer. Then he wriggled out from under the darker teen, careful not to scoot over so far thatfellfell off the bed. Malik made an annoyed noise at that and turned his head away, burying it in the second pillow that Bakura had brought out of the closet when Malik had shown up in Domino a week ago. Bakura spooned against him and wrapped an arm across his chest.

"Don't make everything so hard," he said. "It's just life. You just live it."

"Shut up, Ryô," Malik muttered into the pillow. "I'm trying to sleep."

Bakura shifted a little and rested his head in the curve of Malik's neck, closing his eyes again. He pretended not to hear anything.

~